‘Alula don’t chase after a boy. Ever.’ I yell after her disappearing back. ‘Why?’ she calls over her shoulder. ‘It’s not ladylike. Always let them chase you.’ She doesn’t listen. She is off tearing after Noah. The thing is Patnem beach is about two kilometres long. Ok, I’m rubbish at distance. Maybe it’s more like …
Apparently leaving your knickers out to dry makes you a slut. In which case the locals must think I’m running a brothel. Where else though are you supposed to put them? If I left them inside to dry our house would turn into a Turkish sauna from the water vapour evaporating off them. So the …
‘I think my daughter goes to nursery with your daughter’, I say. ‘Oh right’, the woman says looking me over, ‘Are you on holiday here?’ ‘No we’re travelling and working remotely (well I’m doing the travelling and John’s doing the working but why go into detail?). We’ve rented a house in the village,’ I tell …
‘You’re running out of things to say,’ John remarks. ‘Yeah,’ I agree. It’s a first for me. For a moment we are stunned into silence. I think it is because life has simplified itself down to just necessities. I think in single syllables now. Beach. Book. Beer. Mango. Oh wait. That last one is two …
The strip light was about three inches from my eyeball. The mosquitoes were biting the soles of my feet – the bastards. The metal ropes holding the bunk were rusting. An elderly Indian gentlemen was dying of emphesema in the bed below. And I was sharing that 12 inch wide, grimy bunk with a small …
We’re high. Not that sort of high. Mountain high. For the first time in three weeks I’m not walking around with a meniscus of sweat draping my body. This is what it is like to not sweat. I had forgotten what that felt like but it is lush. Normally I don’t like mountains. I don’t …
‘Welllllllllll.’ She draws out the wells. ‘What I really miss is Number Jacks. Especially the pink three. Yeah,’ she sighs, ‘Number Jacks is what I really miss mummy and Mister Maker. You know? Mister Maker. I miss them.’ She sighs again. I sigh too. Not for Mister Maker, though I do quite like Mister Maker …
The hindu goddess of wealth gave me a wax today. Well she was called Lakshmi. But she should have been called Vishnu after the God of destruction. When I was lying there on the flowery tablecloth, the line Samuel L. says in Jackie Brown (?) sprang to mind – ‘I’m going to get medieval on …
Past the paddy fields, through the palm grove, down onto the beach, through the fishing village, skirt the sleeping fisherman by the boat, up onto the path, down past the nets, across the beach, up the hill, underneath the eagles, dodge the rabid puppy, avoid the yogis with their rolled up mat sabres, quietly past …
Baby, baby. Everywhere we go it’s to a chorus of Baby, Baby. It makes me feel like an extra in dirty dancing. Like I need to be carrying a watermelon with me wherever I go and then maybe someone will tell John not to put me in the corner. I digress – that’s my thirteen …
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